


Let Me Help

by PeachesandBones



Series: 2009 TOS Kink Meme Fills [1]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Episode: s01e28 The City on the Edge of Forever, First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 10:01:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8886628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeachesandBones/pseuds/PeachesandBones
Summary: Written for a 7 year old kink meme found at LiveJournal.  EDITH: And you don't want to talk about it? Why? Did you do something wrong? Are you afraid of something? Whatever it is, let me help.  KIRK: Let me help. A hundred years or so from now, I believe, a famous novelist will write a classic using that theme. He'll recommend those three words even over I love you.





	

**Author's Note:**

> OK, so I happened to stumble upon a 7 year old TOS Kink Meme, and decided that it was my time to shine! If anyone is interested, the meme is at [LiveJournal](http://st-tos-kink.livejournal.com/485.html).
> 
> Prompt:
> 
> Post-City on the Edge of Forever, Kirk finally realises why he fell so hard for Edith Keeler: her compassionate, humanistic spirit reminds him so much of his irascible, compassionate, humanistic doctor.
> 
> McCoy is still pissed at Jim for stopping him from saving her. It's only when Spock explains the situation that McCoy understands - so he dashes off to his captain's quarters. H/C, confessions, crying into shoulders, and possibly smexings ensue.
> 
> I Will Love You Forever And Bear Your Fic's Children If You Include:  
> ~Using "Jimmy" and "Len" in particularly intimate moments  
> ~"I love you" from both parties (those exact words not necessary)
> 
> I Will Worship At Your Feet If You Include:  
> ~As much De Kelley worship as you can possibly fit in, particularly lots of gushing over his blue, blue eyes

_EDITH: And you don't want to talk about it? Why? Did you do something wrong? Are you afraid of something? Whatever it is, let me help._

_KIRK: Let me help. A hundred years or so from now, I believe, a famous novelist will write a classic using that theme. He'll recommend those three words even over I love you._

 

Before Kirk was truly conscious of being back on The Enterprise, his eyes mindlessly tracked the slim figure of Bones storming off of the transporter pad, determination in his long strides and heavy footsteps. When he found himself fully present he debated following the doctor, but thought it better to give his CMO some time to cool off. Mostly the decision was selfish. He could still feel himself holding McCoy’s body tightly as the man struggled, feeling it go slack as Edith Keeler met her end. Remembered clutching Leonard even closer, squeezing his eyes shut so he wouldn’t see the look in those blue eyes, hearing the horror in Bones’ voice.

_Do you know what you just did?_

Jim didn’t want another chance to see the expression of shock and hatred he had missed.

“Clear the transporter pad.” Mr. Kyle declared, and Jim stiffly walked into the corridor with Uhura, Scotty and Spock as the engineer prepared to beam up the two remaining members of security.

“What ‘appened down there?” Scotty asked, casting looks between Jim and the hallway Bones had stormed out of.

“A misunderstanding, Mr. Scott.” Spock assured him.

“Everyone, back to the bridge.” Jim ordered, hoping to derail any further conversation. Scotty and Uhura looked confused, but both followed his instruction.

“Captain.” Spock said. Jim had stepped forward to follow his officers, but halted and turned around.

“What is it?”

“I would suggest that you rest. While the rest of the crew have only been away for a few minutes, ourselves and Dr. McCoy have spent days on a mission. I don’t believe it would be in the crew’s best interest for either of you to remain on shift.” Jim glanced at him tiredly.

“And you, Mr. Spock?”

“I am a Vulcan.” He said simply. “I do not require as much rest.” Usually, Jim would have smiled at this, but at that moment he just felt exhausted and mirthless.

“Of course you don’t.” He muttered somewhat bitterly.

“If I may say, Captain, I also don’t believe that I have been as affected emotionally by these events as you and Dr. McCoy have.” Jim rubbed the back of his neck.

“He’s angry with me.”

“It is to be expected. We have not explained the necessity of your actions yet. And I also suspect that Dr. McCoy and Ms. Keeler were closely bonded for the short time they spent together. He will carry a certain amount of melancholy regarding her death no matter what the circumstances were.” Jim arched an eyebrow questioningly, feeling a small stab of jealousy settle into his stomach.

“You think he and Edith were _involved_?” Spock shook his head.

“Not as you and Ms. Keeler were. More in the sense that they were two beings of the same material, if you will. Both sensitive to the emotions and suffering of others, desiring to make their environments better for their inhabitants. Both healers, if you will, even if the doctor is moreso in a literal sense. Both imaginative and passionate. I believe that if her death hadn’t been necessary, if Dr. McCoy had been her contemporary, they would have been a very powerful force in that time period.”

Jim was not a man who was ever without thought. Being a captain meant he had to continually analyze the data he had, run endless scenarios through his head in seconds, make decisions on a whim. But for a few moments, his mind was vacant in a zen-like calm as unexplained fragments suddenly snapped together in perfect cohesion. Of course. How could he have not seen it?

And suddenly, he could see nothing else.

 

_He felt her slender fingers squeeze his own as they walked, her grin filled with a coquettish promise illuminated by the streetlight. He was sure she was talking, saying something, but all he could focus on was her eyes. Hazel, so much like his own, yet brimming with what he knew he would never have himself. Endless vulnerability, idealism, a compassion that could envelop every being in the universe and not be exhausted. Unreserved in emotion, unabashedly alive and feeling…_

_“Are you afraid of something?”_

_The voice wasn’t hers. It was deep and masculine, with a warmth that both cradled him and burned every nerve ending in his body. His thumb self-consciously stroked the back of her hand, finding wiry hair across an expanse of skin that had somehow widened to perfectly fit the width of his own palm. The eyes that gazed back at him so adoringly were suddenly the colour of untouched tropical waters, electrifying with their purity, and Jim tried to gasp, but he was drowning._

_“Let me help.”_

_Even though his lungs screamed for oxygen, he couldn’t will himself to move, to fight back to the surface. He knew with every fibre of his being that he was supposed to be here, knew that those compassionate eyes would never let him drown, if he just waited, had faith..._

_And then Bones’ lips were over his own, plush and gentle, breathing air into his body. Oxygen rushed through his veins and his vision exploded into tiny pinpoints of light, spine tingling as he desperately reached for the doctor, needing to touch, to explore, to become part of something greater than himself..._

Jim woke up gasping, beads of sweat forging pathways on every inch of his body, his heart pounding in his ears. He threw off his bed sheets and clutched right hand to his chest, his left throttling the base of the erection that throbbed in a desperate need.

_Fuck._

He sat still, unsure if he should breathe deeply and calm his nerves, or give into his burning desire for release. Almost unconsciously, his hand made that decision for him, giving his cock a few punishing strokes that made him see stars as he came, took away the breath that he didn't have, and left him a gasping mess as he bonelessly melted into his bed sheets.

Jim needed a shower. And a drink.

 

McCoy angrily jabbed his index fingers into the keyboard, ignoring traditional hand placement in favour of a satisfying punch with every letter. Sure, it was taking him ten times as long to write his report to Starfleet, but he knew he wouldn’t be sleeping very much that evening anyway.

His concentration remained unbroken until he heard Spock calling out to him.

“Doctor, may I have a word?”

Bones bit the inside of his cheek, for once too angry to hurl a simple insult in reprisal. Spock seemed to take this as an invitation, and stepped into the confines of his office.

“I believe a proper conversation could be conducted if you would merely turn your chair to face me, doctor.” McCoy could taste blood as his teeth punctured the delicate flesh of his cheek. Slowly and deliberately, he pushed himself away from his computer, and swivelled to face the Vulcan. Spock raised his eyebrow in surprise at his expression, and Leonard hoped it would be enough to scare him off.

“We need to go over recent events to put Ms. Keeler’s death in perspective.”

“How,” Leonard growled. “Do you put deliberately letting a woman die into perspective, Mr. Spock?” He spat out the name like an insult. Nevertheless, the Vulcan endured.

“In your drug-induced paranoia, you injured the transporter chief and beamed yourself down to a planet in the middle of a time disturbance. The stone archway we came back to this century through was called ‘The Guardian of Forever’. You had thrown yourself into it previously, and somehow changed the past so that there was no Enterprise. The crew was stuck on the planet with no means of escape. Kirk and I had to go back and retrieve you so that we could discover how you had changed the past to affect our future so dramatically. We discovered that you had saved Edith Keeler’s life when she was meant to die. She went on to spearhead a peace movement so powerful that the United States never developed the A-Bomb. Instead, the Germans did and won World War II.” His eyes didn’t betray any emotion as he stated “Saving the life of Ms. Keeler destroyed the lives of millions of others, both in her time and in ours.” Spock’s factual, pointed explanation of events made Leonard feel like he was going to be sick.

“So it wasn’t cold bloodness on Jim’s part then?” He asked, unconsciously giving a sardonic smile. “Really, it was my fault. We had to watch her die because I couldn’t resist running into some odd time anomaly.” He laughed, sharp and cruelly, and Spock shifted on his feet, almost giving Leonard the impression that he was uncomfortable.

“We cannot rule out that this is exactly what happened, and will continue to happen. Jim had been walking her across the street. If he hadn’t been in that timeline, perhaps she never would have died. You may have been, shall I say, destined to be there.” Bones snorted, but felt his anger deflate as guilt overcame him.

“I think you should know that the captain had become romantically intertwined with Ms. Keeler. If possible, I think his actions may have been more burdensome to him than to you.” Somehow, Spock had an impeccable habit of driving the nail into the coffin, and Bones felt his heart squeeze with both remorse and jealousy. He had forced Jim not only to be a witness to the death of a woman he cared for, but to actively prevent her rescue. And selfishly, floating even above the guilt, was the jealousy that yet another woman had captured his attention, another flavour of the week that would experience more of Jim in a few days than he had in years of friendship.

To be illogical and emotional was a personal failing. To be so incredibly self-absorbed was a crime.

“Thank you, Spock.” He said solemnly. Taking a deep breath, he straightened himself up, and pushed his turmoil to the back of his mind. He had an apology to make, but more importantly, he had a duty. He needed to patch up the cracks in Jim's armour and hold him up until his legs had the strength march back out, as brilliant and courageous as everyone else had always seen him. He didn't know exactly when this had become his responsibility, but he was grateful every time he had the opportunity to be the glue that pulled Jim back together. The flavours of the week had their role in Jim’s life, and he had his own.

 

Armed with a bottle of Saurian brandy, Bones rang the buzzer on Jim’s door, and was quickly admitted. He was not prepared for Jim to be shirtless, drink already in hand, giving him a grim look of concentration that McCoy had never been the focus of before.

He shouldn’t have been surprised at Jim’s lack of modesty, and it shouldn’t have created such a visceral reaction in him. He had seen Kirk shirtless plenty of times, usually in sickbay, sometimes when he was part of the away team. Yet Bones remembered pressing his hands into that soft skin, flesh that always seemed seemed to scald his fingers with it’s warmth, and he felt a flush rise from his neck as his eyes unconsciously traced the outline of the muscles in Jim’s chest, following the collar bones across his shoulders…

“Bones.” Jim said solemnly, and he was snapped out of his reverie by the almost pained tone of his captain.

“Jim,” He replied, finally stepping far enough inside his quarters to hear the door slide close behind him. “Look, I’m sorry. Spock explained everything to me. I’m not angry anymore, and I shouldn’t have been so-”

“It’s fine.” Jim waved him off. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

Ah. So they would be talking about Edith then.

Bones could do that.

He was pretty sure.

“Take a seat.” Jim waved an open hand at the seat across from him, and McCoy sat down, offering a small grin.

“I see you got ahead of me in the drinking department.” Jim didn’t even smile back, but fixed him with a steady, sombre gaze, and this worried him. Something was off about Jim that he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“You know, I loved Edith.” Jim said, eyes like liquid gold in their sincerity. Bones’ teeth worried the the rapidly healing side of his cheek. Of course.

“She had this sort of grumpy compassion for everyone.” He continued. “The kind of compassion that could cure a country gearing up for war. She was idealistic in a way that you could get swept up in. Very intuitive. Passionate. Beautiful. Kind, perhaps to a fault...” He trailed off, still scrutinizing Bones in a way that made him feel self-conscious.

“Yes.” He agreed. “She was all of those things. I wish that there could have been another way.”

“I had a conversation with Spock.” Jim continued like the doctor hadn’t even spoken. “He said something very interesting.”

“Oh?” Bones asked. “Did it border on ‘fascinating’?” Yet there still wasn’t any reaction from Jim, no slight upturn of his lips, no crinkling around the eyes, and McCoy found himself lost.

“He said that you and Edith were cut from the same cloth.” Jim got up, and started pacing to and fro across his room, an unexplained tension in body. McCoy watched suspiciously as the captain paced in front of him. “That both of you had the same qualities, the same intrinsic need to heal, to make the world a better place.” Jim whipped his head around so quickly that Bones wondered if it had hurt. “I think he’s right.”

There was some sort of subtext there that spun circles in his mind, something that he knew he was missing but couldn’t quite put his finger on, and he shook his head with frustration.

“Jim, I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“It’s you, Bones.” He said quietly, and suddenly there was such incredible longing and nakedness in his gaze, in his body, that McCoy’s heart jumped into his throat. “It’s always been you. And I didn’t see it.”

“Jim,” It came out in a strangled gasp, half disbelieving, mind refusing to piece together the captain’s words. “I still don’t-” But before he could sputter out his confusion, Jim leaned down over him, and pressed their lips together.

_Oh._

So much for being intuitive.

 

Bones kissed back with a hunger that equalled his own, and released a low moan that made Jim’s spine tingle and his head throb. Without interrupting the rhythm of their lips, he grabbed the front of McCoy’s uniform and brought him up to standing, pushing the doctor’s lithe frame backwards until the back of his legs were flush with the edge of the bed. Jim shoved the smaller man down, climbing on top of him and languidly thrust their clothed erections together. Bones _whined_ , face and neck flushing with arousal, his hands clenching the captain’s biceps with an even pressure. Jim brought his lips and tongue down to work at McCoy’s throat, giving slow, pointed strokes with his tongue and ghosting kisses that made his partner keen.

“Jim…” Bones grabbed his head in one hand, pulling at the fine hair as he met Jim in another kiss. His other hand reached for the top of Jim’s pants, endeavouring to slip his hand inside, but the captain caught his slim wrist and raised it to the headboard.

“You’re very overdressed.” He admonished before pulling the hem of Bones’ tunic over his head and throwing it haphazardly on the floor. The slight of McCoy below him, body laid out like a buffet for his senses, made him want to explore every inch of accessible skin. Jim ran his fingers gently down the path of dark chest hair, stroking over Bones’ lightly muscled pectorals and across his flat stomach. He had often admired his friend’s long limbs and slender body, watched him run with a grace and speed that his own hurried footsteps and top heaviness had never granted him. Now, that nimble figure was underneath him, calling out his name and begging for more…

Jim hurriedly reached for the buttons on the doctor’s Starfleet issued slacks, deftly undoing the buttons and then -

With a growl, he found himself on his back, Bones on top of him as his pants slid down his slim hips, hips that Jim imagined wrapping his hands around, thrusting into wantonly. But he found himself helpless as McCoy’s eyes met his own - not the tropical blue of his dreams, but the colour of blue flame that burned with a sinful promise, fuelled by unfettered passion and desire. Dumbly he followed those eyes, held that gaze as Bones undid his slacks without looking, surgeon’s hands brushing the delicate skin of his navel, leaving a burning heat with each touch. Then he shifted his hips, and his pants were off, and McCoy’s soft, rich lips were around his cock, tongue dancing around his glands, eyes never leaving his…

“Bones…” Jim moaned helplessly, and he reached for his friend’s soft hair, desperate to tousle it, see Bones become as debauched and undone as he was. This time, instead of drowning, he felt himself burning, every nerve ending hypersensitive, every touch scorching. Part of him wondered if McCoy’s touches were leaving burns, marking his skin for eternity...

Jim was both inside his body and floating above it, every movement so pleasurable it bordered on pain, and yet an observer to his own sensations. He felt an energy run through him, so pure and unadulterated, and he knew he had to release it soon, or else he might never come back down…

“Bones, I-” The words were on the tip of his tongue, and so far away, but he lost them as McCoy flicked his tongue right on his frenulum and his balls tightened, his groin unbearably tense, preparing for the end. The words were now a mantra, racing down the synpases of his brain, trying to formulate themselves on his lips before his release beat them to the chase.

“I lo-”

Then he came, arching his back so hard he lost eye contact with Leonard, and once again his mind was filled with a blissful nothingness.

 

When Jim could rouse the energy to look down, he saw Bones’ chin resting on his stomach, smiling a soft, lopsided grin that he couldn’t help but return. He brushed his palm against the doctor’s cheek, taking a moment to admire the creases running across his forehead and under his eyes, souvenirs of the burdens he carried for others.

“Well, that went a lot differently than I expected.” Bones’ voice was deep and content.

“I should piss you off more often.” The blond agreed, running his hand through his companion’s hair. “I still need to get you off, in fact.” Leonard pushed himself up and shook his head, despite the prominent erection that his pants were just barely hanging on to.

“It’s alright.” But to Jim it wasn’t. Typical Doctor McCoy, fixing the problems of everyone else under the stars and never asking for anything for himself.

“No.” Kirk replied, grabbing his wrist as Leonard tried to get off the bed. “That’s not how I do things. Let me help.” For a moment Bones tensed, as though the thought of having someone meet his needs for a change was an uncomfortable predicament. But Jim held his gaze and his grip, and the brunet's shoulders relaxed an inch, a small smile playing around his lips.

“OK.”

And help he did.


End file.
